


happy at home

by smallblueandloud



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: (i'm cuban and therefore i have a permit.), (it says 'essbie can do what she wants'), (look i know she's cuban in canon but this is ABOUT her being cuban and therefore. i am tagging it.), Cuban Culture, F/M, Fluff, cuban amy santiago
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:06:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22766722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallblueandloud/pseuds/smallblueandloud
Summary: “Ah, Jacob!” says the woman on the other end. “I am Amy’s Tia Maria Carmen.”Her English is accented but carefully pronounced, as if she knows he can’t speak Spanish. “Hi,” he says, relieved. “Sorry, Amy’s still at work. She won’t be home for a while. Hard case and all.”(or, in which amy's family is nosy, but in a good way.)
Relationships: Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago
Comments: 22
Kudos: 133





	happy at home

**Author's Note:**

> title is from _you're my best friend_ by queen, because amy and jake are bi solidarity. sorry, i don't make the rules.
> 
> thanks to florchis for help with the spanish and sara (paperairplanesopenwindows) for being so supportive. translations are in brackets after the dialogue. if there's an issue with the spanish, it's because i didn't ask flor about it, so please correct me lol. all the culture stuff is from me, A Cuban(tm). enjoy :)

The phone rings in the kitchen. Jake sighs and pauses the tv, already wishing he could get back to it. **  
**

It’s the first time all week that he’s gotten a chance to sit down and actually catch up on his shows. Well, he says shows. All he really does is turn on HGTV and watch House Hunters until he can’t keep his eyes open.

But hey, it’s what he likes. He’s never liked sitcoms or intricate fantasy subplots.

He stands up from the couch, grabs his water, and makes his way into the kitchen. It’s nine at night, and he’s alone in the apartment. Amy’s working a late shift, trying to solve a case that she’s been working on for two weeks.

His dinner was a microwaved hot dog and a glass of _water_. He doesn’t know why he bothers leaving the office without her, except that he’s been craving some time where he doesn’t have to talk to anyone. Even his wife.

He reaches the landline, dodging the sticky spot on the floor that’s been there for four days. “Yeah?”

“Mijita, para el cumpleaños de Jorgito- permiso, ¿quien es? ¿Donde esta Amy?” _[Honey, for Jorgito’s birthday- excuse me, who is this? Where is Amy?]_

“Uh-” he says. His Spanish is still pretty terrible, all things considered. “Soy su- darn it, uh- su esposa. Esposo. Soy el esposo de Amy.” _[I’m her- darn it, uh- her wife. Husband. I’m Amy’s husband.]_

“Ah, Jacob!” says the woman on the other end. “I am Amy’s Tia Maria Carmen.”

Her English is accented but carefully pronounced, as if she knows he can’t speak Spanish. “Hi,” he says, relieved. “Sorry, Amy’s still at work. She won’t be home for a while. Hard case and all.”

“Ah,” says Maria. “She has always worked hard.” Jake can hear her smile on the other end of the line. “I am glad to speak with you, Jacob. Your wedding was so complicated.”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling ruefully, even though she can’t see him. “Bomb threats and all. I’m sorry none of you got to make it.”

Okay, so he was looking forward to his night off, but he doesn’t mind taking a few minutes to talk to Amy’s aunt. He regrets not getting to meet her extended family at the wedding. She’s so close with them, and he wants to meet the family he married into.

“We wish we had gotten to go, too,” says Maria. “To see Amy’s wedding, and to meet you. But you are coming to Jorgito’s party on Sunday, yes?”

“Uh…” he says, thinking fast. They hadn’t gotten an invitation in the mail, but that might mean he missed it. Should he try to cover his tracks? Oh, well, everyone already knows he has the attention span of a fly. “I didn’t know there was one.”

She chuckles. “It is okay. This is why I called Amy. The invitation says 12:30, but everyone should show up at 1:30.”

“Oh,” he says. “Why not just put 1:30 on the invitation?”

“Because they will arrive at 2:30,” she says, patiently. “Can you tell her, please?”

“Yeah, of course,” he says. “I think we can make it.” Rule number one of relationships: don’t agree on behalf of both of you until you get to discuss it. “But I’ll have to check with Amy.”

“Tell her to tell her mother,” says Maria. “She will tell me. Thank you, Jacob. It was nice to speak with you.”

She pronounces his name _Yakob_ , sort of like the Hebrew pronunciation. It’s strangely comforting.

“Sure thing,” he says. “Goodnight.”

“Hasta luego,” she says, and hangs up.

A few hours later, Amy unlocks the door and walks inside, waking him up from his light doze on the couch. She hangs up her coat and leans down to kiss his forehead. “Hey, babe.”

“Hi, Ames,” he whispers.

As he feels around the couch for the remote to turn off Property Brothers, she goes into the bedroom to take off her shoes and plug in her phone. He pulls the remote over and squints to find the power button.

He must fall asleep again, because the next thing he knows, she’s lying down on the couch, molded to his side.

“How’s the case?” he asks, yawning. He puts an arm around her shoulder, relishing having her close. He’s gotten his alone-time and is back to loving his Amy-time.

“It’s going well. We’re gonna crack it tomorrow. I have a good feeling.”

“Awesome,” he murmurs, and then blinks awake. “Oh, right. Your aunt called.”

He can hear the frown in her voice. “My aunt?”

“Your Tia Maria.”

She shakes her head, her hair brushing against his shoulder. “Which one? There’s three.”

“Maria… hm… wait, there’s actually three of them? That’s cool. I don’t remember her name, though. It was a C-name.”

“Maria Carmen?”

“Yes!” he says, pointing at the ceiling. “Yes. She called about Jorgito’s birthday party on Sunday?”

“Yeah?” says Amy. “We got the invitation.”

“Oh, we did?” he says. “That’s one question answered. Anyways, she wanted to tell you to show up at 1:30, not 12:30.”

“That’s nice of her.”

“Why did she do that?” he asks, just realizing it. “I mean, you’re super punctual.”

“Exactly,” she says. “Cubans are generally late to things, so people put early times on the invitation. It’s cultural.”

“And you’re never late.”

“Nope,” says Amy. “Not me, not my brothers, not my parents. So we have to show up an hour later on purpose.”

“But your parents’ sister still put late times on the invitations? Your parents are the odd ones of their siblings, huh.”

“What? My aunt- oh. Tia Carmen isn’t my aunt, technically. None of the Marias are. _Tia_ translates to _aunt,_ but it really means any female relative that’s my parents’ age or older.”

“Oh,” says Jake. “That… makes things easier.”

“Yeah,” says Amy. She kisses his shoulder, and he smiles into the darkness. “You didn’t have any problems understanding her?”

“What? No. Her accent was really understandable. She spoke really slowly for me too, which was nice.”

“Yeah,” says Amy. “Good. Of course, that’s why _she_ called you. She has the best English out of all the aunts.”

“What?” asks Jake. “She didn’t call me, remember? She called _you_.”

“No,” says Amy, drawing out the word. “I told my mom that I was staying late at the precinct today. The aunts show up to my parents’ house on Wednesday nights, when my grandmother holds coffee hour, and my mom would have told them I was busy. Not to mention I already know to show up an hour after the time on the invitation.” She smiles into his shoulder. “Anyway, if someone were actually going to call me about Jorgito’s birthday party, it would be Jorge.”

“Who’s Jorge?”

“Jorgito’s dad,” says Amy, like it’s obvious. On second thought, it probably was. “My second cousin.”

Jake shakes his head, feeling betrayed. “So… she called just to talk to me?”

“Yeah, probably on behalf of all the aunts,” says Amy. “I mean, they want to meet you. They didn’t get to go to our wedding, and you’re family now.” She sits up and smiles at him “I’m sorry she lured you under false pretenses, though.”

He shrugs. “I suppose I can forgive them,” he says, turning his nose up. “More or less. Maybe.”

“That’s my husband,” says Amy, grinning at him. She holds out her hand. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

“As you wish,” he says, and takes it.

**Author's Note:**

> there aren't enough fics in this fandom about amy being cuban. PLEASE link any you have in the comments, i'm dying over here. also, i'm [on tumblr](https://smallblueandloud.tumblr.com), so stop by! i'm available to answer ANY AND ALL questions about cuban culture - either by myself, or by asking my mom or abuela. i can cuban-edit your fics too!! please let me know!! thank you for reading <3


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